Keep It Discreet
by MiladyGirl
Summary: Blake knows her husband is cheating on her. Eventual Blake/Rossi.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

This was originally a drabble for my song drabbles, but I thought it deserved its own post. If anyone's curious, the song that inspired it was Fleetwood Mac's "Little Lies".

* * *

She knows. She has known for three months. She has chosen to turn a blind eye and now she doesn't know how to approach the subject. If she does, if she is officially aware, the only option is divorce. She is fine with open marriages, but only if those cards have been on the table to begin with. All players need to agree on the rules, not change them as they go. She doesn't want to back down on that, yet she has no choice. All major decisions they have made have always come with veto, but _this_ was never discussed. They know each other so well even their arguments have been reduced to a kind of marriage stenography, both knowing exactly the buzzwords that triggers the other. She aims to avoid those tonight.

"How is Boston?" she asks, but she already knows that she could simply ask him "How is Ashley?" because that's what his mind centres around when he is in Boston. The athletic, 24-year-old intern that might have started out being interested only in James's intellect but now shares his bed in his Boston apartment most nights. She knows, not because she's an FBI profiler but because she's a woman. Because she's the wife.

"Boston is fine. Busy."

Alex smiles mechanically, remembering the scent of lilacs that lingered on his coat, the mascara smear on the pillow in his bed, the absence of his wedding band ("I've lost weight so it keeps falling off, I keep it on the nightstand") and the long blonde hairs in his hairbrush. The one most compromising thing is the extra toothbrush that he forgot to get rid of last time she came to visit him in the apartment. Yes, he's keeping busy when he's in Boston, alright.

She watches him as he puts the spaghetti into the boiling water, then stirs the tomato sauce a little. She wonders if he's cooking for Ashley too. Maybe she's there to have the dinner ready when he comes home.

James's cell phone, which is on the counter, beeps with an incoming text message. Alex raises an eyebrow, but James doesn't move away from the stove.

"You got a text," Alex says.

"I'm sure it can wait," he replies. "Why don't you go and have a quick shower, and dinner will be ready in about ten minutes," he adds, sounding completely casual.

"I think I will," she says, but first she picks up his phone from the counter. James freezes and sends a quick, but very telling, glance her way. Alex pretends not to notice, although her world shatters a little bit. Knowing is one thing. Fully comprehend is another. She hands the phone over to him without so much as peeking at the display.

"James?"

"Yes?"

"Keep it discreet."

He realises he has been caught, and his shoulders slump.

"Alex, I…"

She holds up a hand to stop him. She doesn't want this discussion. She's not sure she's ever going to confront it, but she _is_ sure she's not going to confront it tonight.

"That's all I ask. You either keep it discreet or file for divorce. I have nothing else to say."

And, she discovers, she doesn't. She could use words, lots of them, but what good are words when you don't know what it is you want to use them for?

 _Keep it discreet._

In Alex Blake's mind, that means _please_ _don't mess up my status quo_. That's really the only thing she _wants_ to say, and after twenty-three years of marriage, James understands that.

While he sets the table downstairs, Alex locks the bathroom door and turns on the shower so he won't hear her cry.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

Apparently, my muse liked this fic. I told her to keep her focus on Old Wounds and she insists she can do both. I believe it when I see it. XD

(no, I haven't abandoned that one either).

* * *

"Blake? Blake!"

She startled.

"Oh. Sorry. I was… thinking."

"Yeah, I noticed. Care to share?"

She almost capitulated to the kind tone, but in the end decided to keep it to herself.

"No. It's personal."

Rossi nodded, then lowered his gaze to her hand. The last case they had was in Southern California, and the tan Blake had gotten in the sunshine state only enhanced the current absence of her wedding ring. A thin strip of pale skin where it had been seemed almost like the ghost of the ring itself. Blake noticed him looking and thrust both hands into her coat pockets, wishing she had brought a pair of gloves with her. As a stark contrast to San Diego, CA, it was quite chilly here in Northern Minnesota this time of year. It was difficult keeping a go-bag suitable for all the various climates in the US, and she compromised with the result that she was always too hot in the warm states and freezing in the colder ones. Shivering in her far too light coat, she tried to ignore any of Rossi's observations by recounting what they had so far.

"… they were all found with massive doses of ketamine in their systems, and they had been suffocated. So we could be looking for a female unsub," Blake said, doing her best to keep her teeth from chattering. The wind coming from North-East was so cold it was like being whipped. Rossi studied her closely before starting to unbutton his wool coat.

"What are you…" she began when he shrugged out of the coat and held it out for her. "No. I'm fine. Thank you, but I'm…"

"Alex," he said patiently. "You're chilled to the bone. Put this on before you freeze to death."

"So it's better if you do, then?" she snapped, but she was unable to resist the wonderfully warm coat when he held it out again.

"Don't worry about me, I've been inside talking to the people who found the body. You've been out here for the past hour, you definitely need it more," he said as he helped her put it on over what she already wore. Blake revelled in the blessed warmth, grateful for the added bonus of Rossi's lingering body heat. She was so focused on the immediate comfort that she was caught off guard when Rossi said;

"So, was it James or you who ended it?"

"If you're referring to my lack of wedding band, it's nothing that dramatic. I've lost weight so the ring doesn't fit. I don't want it to slip off somewhere. So I took it off."

"Mhmm," Rossi replied, and her blood was at least hot enough to make her cheeks burn from embarrassment. He knew she lied, of course he did. But that didn't mean she had to admit the truth; that her husband was prancing around with a woman young enough to be his daughter. Then again, maybe he really was in love with Ashley. James had always been a sucker for admiration, and an intern would undeniably be more inclined to offer that than a middle-aged woman who had her own professional titles. Never mind that the middle-aged woman had been standing by him for decades. James could be both generous and loving, but he could also be incredibly self-absorbed, always putting himself first. She had always chalked it up to him growing up an only child, barely noticing this trait any longer. Until now.

"Alex," Rossi said in a gentle voice and placed his handkerchief in her hand. "Wipe your face. You're leaking."

To her chagrin, she realised that she had started to cry without even noticing. She was an emotional mess right now, true, but she normally managed to keep her emotions bottled up and only let them out in private. She mentally kicked herself for this lapse in self-control, but it was as if being reprimanded (even though it was by herself) was the final straw. Now she wasn't leaking, she was overflowing. In an attempt to save at least some dignity, she tried to walk away, but Rossi easily caught up with her.

"Let's go back to the car," he said. Mortified, Blake nodded but refused to look at him. This was rock-bottom. It couldn't possibly get any worse.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, it did, and with a vengeance. Blake had managed to restrain her emotions again, stoically refusing to initiate conversation with Rossi. She really didn't feel like explaining herself; she'd prefer to pretend this breach in personal control never happened, and she knew Rossi would respect that wish.

Unfortunately, the fates were against her, as proven when she got a text message. Thinking it was Garcia sending the information she had requested earlier, she wasn't at all apprehensive of reading. It wasn't Garcia. It was from James, and it was very clearly sent to wrong woman with name beginning with an A.

" _No need to make dinner today babe, I got the promotion so tonight, I'm going to wine and dine and sixty-nine you."_

Blake's jaws clenched. Rossi shot her a glance from the driver's seat, noting how she tensed up again.

"Alex? You okay?"

"No, I am not," she replied coldly while composing a reply with movements so hard Rossi wondered if the poor phone would survive the treatment.

" _Congratulations on the promotion I didn't know you were going for. I think I'll pass on both dinner and intimacy though, since I'm in Minnesota at the moment, BABE."_

She paused and then sent another;

" _Would you like me to provide you with a definition of the word 'discreet'?"_

"You son of a bitch," she murmured under her breath and found herself missing her long gone brother Danny more than ever. If anyone hurt his little sister, Danny had been more than willing to return the hurt to sender. Even to this day, she felt better just by picturing him punching her two-timing husband in the face.

"James?" Rossi asked, and she nodded in confirmation before she remembered that she had firmly denied anything was wrong with her marriage. She sighed.

"He found himself a pastime in Boston."

Rossi winced.

"Ouch. I'm sorry."

"His 24-year-old intern."

"Has he taken up any sport he used to play in his youth, or maybe purchased a sports car yet?" Rossi asked. Blake surprised herself – and pleased Rossi - by laughing out loud.

"He talks about taking up football. And the car, well, it wouldn't surprise me if that's next."

"And you? What's next for you?"

"Truth be told, I don't know. He still comes home on weekends, if I'm not on a case. We're not officially separated. We keep our conversations civil but shallow. Basically, we ignore the elephant in the room."

She looked down at her phone just as James replied.

"If I were you I wouldn't bother reading," Rossi warned her.

"Yeah, too late now," Blake said, distracted by the words on the screen.

" _I am well aware of the definition of discreet. Do YOU know the meaning of the word 'mistake'?"_

"If a text makes you that upset, don't answer it," Rossi said.

"If you don't stop telling me what to do, you can let me out of the car right here and I'll walk back to town," Blake snarled. Rossi fell silent, realising better late than never that unless he wanted to be collateral, now was not the best time to aggravate the usually so tranquil linguist.

" _Definition of 'mistake'; our marriage. Don't bother coming to DC next weekend."_

On one hand, it felt good to bitch. On the other, she resented that she sounded so petty. It was true they had never had a particularly _passionate_ or traditionally romantic relationship, but it certainly hadn't felt like a mistake until very recently.

" _I wasn't planning to. I'm filing for divorce."_

She couldn't say she was surprised, but breaking up a more than two-decade long marriage over text message felt like an anti-climax, and she started to feel cold in a way that Rossi's coat couldn't do anything about. This kind of coldness was located around her heart.

" _How considerate to let me know that much, at least."_

She didn't expect another text - he had said all there was to say, and so had she – but there was one more coming, and clearly James no longer cared about her longing for a stable status quo.

" _My lawyer will call you sometime next week."_

"It wasn't enough that we were three in our marriage the past couple of months, now we're apparently going to drag lawyers into it as well," Blake said, attempting to keep her voice light and failing miserably. Once more, tears streamed down her cheeks. "Damnit, I don't want to cry anymore," she groaned and wiped her eyes almost angrily, but it was to no avail; they quickly filled and overflowed again. She was grateful she still had Rossi's handkerchief so she could hide behind it; she had a feeling she had a face full of makeup meltdown.

"Do you want me to take you back to the hotel? I can tell Hotch you got sick."

It was tempting. A scalding hot shower and then crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head, build a dark, warm cocoon around her to shut the world away…

"No," she said, and immediately changed her mind. The idea of that down blanket cocoon proved to be _too_ tempting to resist. "Yes."

Rossi, not only one of the best profilers in the world, but also a man who had gone through three divorces himself, already knew that would be her answer. Blake was normally both tough and balanced, but right now she was very fragile. More extroverted people dealt better with predicaments in the company of others, but introverts like Blake needed to withdraw and regroup in peace and quiet.

* * *

"Do you need anything?" he asked as he parked outside the hotel. She shook her head, feeling weak and stupid, but also thankful it was Rossi who had seen her crack, and not one of the others. They were all sympathetic, that wasn't an issue, but an alpha male like Morgan was the last person she wanted to let her guard down in front of, she didn't want to subject Reid to the awkwardness bound to follow, JJ was a young, pretty woman with an intact marriage, and Hotch was the boss.

"Please don't say anything," she pleaded.

"I won't," he said, patting her now ringless left hand. "You'll get through this, I promise."

She gave him a feeble smile and got out of the car, leaving his coat on the passenger seat before walking towards the entrance. Rossi watched her until she got inside, then took out his phone and called Hotch.

"I just dropped Blake off at the hotel, she's not feeling well."

"What's wrong with her?"

Rossi didn't particularly like to tell outright lies, but he didn't flinch when he had to.

"Migraine."

He had three broken marriages behind him, had doubtlessly hurt his wives unintentionally, but at least he had never cheated on any of them. Nor had he been cheated on. He could only imagine the pain she was dealing with right now, but it was more than enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**

I haven't written much lately, but then I remembered that I had this chapter almost finished, so I wrapped it up and decided to post it. Hopefully motivation and ideas will return soon, but in the meanwhile I guess this is better than nothing. :D

* * *

After taking a shower, Alex decided she had to at least try and talk to her husband. This was ridiculous. They couldn't have a decades-long marriage and then break up through text messages. It seemed a bit too middle school for her taste. She sat down on the bed, wishing she had a strong drink to wash down the bitterness with, then decided that right now hard liquor was probably going to do her more harm than good.

Besides, she was, technically, still on duty.

She stared at her phone with intense dislike bordering on hatred, although she knew it wasn't responsible for her feelings.

"Text message," she said out loud. "Really, James."

The migraine Rossi had invented as an excuse seemed about to become a reality; it was building behind her eyes like a looming thundercloud. And _God_ , she was still freezing; it was as if the warmth hadn't quite convinced her body of its presence yet.

She called James's number and he answered on first ring, not bothering with "hello".

"Listen Alex, I didn't send that to taunt you, I really did send it wrong," he said in an irritable voice that she couldn't stand. It was his entitled voice. "Alex and Ashley are right after each other in the phone list."

"I know, but _discreet_ meant I wouldn't have to get any indications on what's going on," she said and massaged her neck. "I didn't want to know. Maybe you could have named her 'Mistress' or 'Hot Student' or…"

"Did you call to whine?"

Had she been whining? Yeah, she probably had. But she thought she was allowed at least some of that.

"No. I just wanted to _hear_ you tell me you want a divorce, and not hide behind text messages."

"Alright," he said, took a deep breath, and said "Alex – I want a divorce."

She hid her eyes behind her arm as if there was someone in the room who could see the fresh tears forming.

"Okay. I hope we could do this without dragging lawyers into it, though."

"No. I want every piece that's mine."

After 20+ years, how many things in a household belonged exclusively to one spouse? The majority of all purchases, like furniture, and cars, were made together, at least in their marriage. Personal items were a different thing, she couldn't imagine that James would have much use for her chess game for example, but…

"Alright. Write a list of all the things you want, then, so I know when I get back which things will be gone."

"You don't get it, Alex. I want the house."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Don't get upset now," he said, as if she was a kid who had just dropped her ice-cream cone on the ground. It was that belittling tone that flipped the switch. She raised her voice, and she almost never did.

"Why would you want the house? You live in _Boston_! You work in Boston! You have your _girlfriend_ " – she practically spat the word – "in Boston! You even have your parents in Boston! _Why_ would you want the house in DC?"

"I think you should calm down before you give yourself a heart attack," James said, but he sounded like he was just trying to avoid the subject.

"You know what's attacking my heart right now? _You_ are." But she tried to get herself back under control. This was escalating beyond what she was prepared to deal with now.

James sighed loudly.

"Look, I have some work to finish up and then…"

"I know. Out and celebrate with your…" she swallowed the word she was about to say, horrified and disgusted by herself. She had never called another woman slut or whore in her entire life and she wasn't going to start because her husband made shitty decisions. "… with Ashley." But there was one more thing she needed to get out of her system. "Does she give you that 'my hero' look?"

"What are you talking about…?"

"The 'my hero' look. Oh, you know exactly what I mean. Because if she is, then I know what it is about her that you really want. And that's not an equal relationship."

"An equal relationship?" he said, and now there was steel in his voice. "Like ours?"

Silence was often Alex's preferred strategy when dealing with troubling situations, but this time it wasn't a strategy, she just didn't know what to say.

"I'll hold off with the lawyer until you're back from the case and can talk to your own. You have to find someone else than the one we've had, since he's already taken my case."

"Your _case_? Our marriage is a _case_? So it's going to turn into a courtroom drama?" she said.

"I want the house. The amount of drama is all up to you."

"Well, it's my home, so say I will create one hell of a drama to get to stay there."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Because Ashley doesn't know," Alex coaxed, and an unhappy little smile played on her lips. "You never told her you were married, did you? I'm curious, what _did_ you tell her? Does she think you're already divorced? A bachelor? Tell me, what does your story make me?"

"I told her I was a widower," James said. "So I guess that makes you dead."

Before she could think of anything to say in response – but she doubted she could have found a suitable response at all – he hung up. Alex stared, open-mouthed, at the phone for several seconds before turning it off altogether.

"Well, I guess it does," she mumbled to herself.

All of a sudden, every limb in her body felt heavy, and she couldn't sit upright another moment. It was as if all her willpower, all her strength, had been poured into that phone call and now there was nothing left to hold her up. She collapsed rather than laid down and pulled the bed covers over her. They were generously stuffed with goose downs and as fluffy and warm as you could ask for. She curled up in foetal position, pulled the covers up over her head and only left only a small opening so she could breathe. In the warm, muffled darkness she could finally begin to process the overload of feelings, this time not aware that she was crying, yet with a relentless stream of tears running down her cheeks.

Ten minutes later, she was asleep.

It was not a restful slumber.

* * *

Rossi lowered his phone.

"Voice mail again."

"Well, if she has a migraine it wouldn't be odd if she turned the phone off," Hotch said. He looked closely at his old friend. "Unless there's something about this that you're not telling me."

Rossi sighed, knowing he could only fool Hotch about half the times he tried. At least that was mutual.

"There is, but you don't need to know what. Regardless how you look at it, Blake is not well right now."

Hotch glanced at his watch.

"I get what you're asking. Okay. Go to the hotel and check on her. We're still waiting for Reid and JJ to get back from the coroner's office anyway."

"Thanks Hotch," Rossi said and was halfway out the door when Hotch spoke again.

"Dave? Does she need a doctor?"

"It's not that kind of unwell."

"Alright. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Rossi nodded.

"I appreciate that. And I'm sure Alex does, too."

* * *

A knock on the door roused her from the troubled sleep.

"Alex? Can I come in?"

She rolled over on her back, rubbing her face with both hands.

"No. I look like crap." Not that she had a mirror, but she was pretty sure that wasn't far off the mark.

"You can't look worse than you did when you slipped into that dung heap chasing an unsub at a farm in Nebraska. Both you and Reid looked like crap then. Literally."

" _Not_ funny." But if it wasn't, why did she smile?

"I'm sorry. Honestly. My point is that I've already seen you at your worst, so there's no need to be shy in front of me."

"This is different. This time I'm covered in defeat, and that stinks way worse."

He was quiet for several seconds. Alex thought he had given up when he spoke again, very calmly, but in a manner that did not take no for an answer.

"Alex. Let me in."

Before she could debate with herself whether it was a good idea or not, she had rushed across the floor, opened the door, and then hurried back to bed. Rossi caught a glimpse of a naked thigh before she pulled the covers back up all the way to her chin.

"Sorry about violating the dress code," she muttered.

"The dress code is the least thing I'm worried about," he said, took the chair from the desk and sat down next to the bed. "I'm worried about you, Alex."

"I'll be alright," she replied and tried to smile. It didn't look very convincing, but it was a brave attempt, and it made him admire her even more.

"Why don't you put on something and we'll go down to the hotel restaurant and have an early dinner?" He could sense her disapproval before she voiced it, so he added; "There won't be a lot of people there at this time, the rest of the team won't be back at the hotel for several hours, and you've got to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"It doesn't matter, you've got to eat anyway. You probably already know that I didn't buy that story that you lost so much weight your wedding ring keeps falling off – actually, that sounds more like a lie I'd pin on your husband – but you _have_ lost weight lately, and you can't afford to lose much more. And I happen to know they serve excellent steak."

At the mention of steak, her mouth watered a little – so she was hungrier than she thought – but she shook her head anyway.

"I'm fine. I just want to be alone."

"You can be alone after dinner."

She glared at him. He didn't flinch.

"Just humour me," he said.

So she did.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

This chapter is dedicated to _guest_ , who's high-key wishing for more. 😊 The main reason this chapter has taken so long is not because I lost interest, it's just that I keep getting it wrong and even now I'm not sure it works. It feels so jumpy. At the same time, the very core of this is Blake's emotional state, she is _supposed_ to be upset and moody, so maybe it does work after all.. uh, just bear with me, okay? 😉

* * *

They got a table in the far corner of the restaurant, which Blake was very grateful for. She hadn't bothered redoing her makeup and she was in jeans and a sweater rather than her usual pantsuits, so she was certain she looked misplaced next to Rossi. As long as he didn't disapprove of being seen with her when she looked this unpolished, she supposed she was okay with it, but that didn't mean she wanted to be on display for anyone who happened to walk into the restaurant.

"I'm guessing you could use a drink," Rossi said once they were seated.

"Oh you have no idea!" Blake replied. "I'm not sure I should, though."

"Why not?"

"If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that alcohol only tends to enhance the mood you're already in."

"Well then, let's change your mood," Rossi said. Blake smiled weakly.

"I'm not sure that's possible right now."

"We can try. And put a limit on the alcohol intake for good measure."

Blake nodded. That she could go along with. One drink, and one attempt to change her mood.

"Okay."

"So, what will you have?"

"Bourbon. No water, no ice. I'm not exactly celebrating," she said.

After ordering their drinks, they sat in silence as they waited, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Rossi pretended to look through the menu, but it was mostly so Blake wouldn't feel like she was under scrutiny. She in turn looked out the window, trying to sort her thoughts and emotions under proper labels so she'd be able to communicate them without sounding like a hysteric. When the drinks arrived, she thought she might be capable of talking about matters without yet another breakdown.

She took a sip of her bourbon, put the glass down, took a deep breath, and cut right to the chase.

"James told his girlfriend that he's a widower. So, apparently, I'm dead to him," she said.

Rossi winced. She felt a sliver of bitter satisfaction from his response.

"Also, he's going to drag lawyers into our divorce because, listen to this, he wants the house!" She laughed in disbelief. "He has _nothing_ in DC, but he still wants to throw me out of my home!"

"Is it out of spite?"

Blake was caught off guard. She had merely assumed it was, but if spite was his goal, there were better cards to play. Besides, if James was serious about wanting to cut ties with her and be with Ashley, he wouldn't want anything to keep him tethered to DC.

"I… don't know."

Rossi let her ponder it for a moment before gently urging her on.

"Do you want to keep the house?"

"Yeah." She scoffed. "Even more so now that I know he's willing to fight over it. He's not walking away from this with _anything_ that's not exclusively his property."

"Now _there's_ the Alex I know and love," Rossi said. "The one who doesn't give up."

He didn't notice his own wording, but Blake did. She was, after all, a linguist. The idea of being loved by David Rossi was a pleasant one, even if the words were spoken in a friendly rather than romantic way. It was also the last thing she should be thinking about right now; she needed romance about as much as she needed the bubonic plague, and she took another sip of her drink as if to wash the very thought of romance away.

"Do you know any good lawyers?" she asked, half joking. Rossi looked serious when he replied:

"Oh yeah, several. Unfortunately, divorce has been something of a speciality of mine."

Blake bit her lip.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Don't worry about me. It's in the past. Listen Alex, if you want to keep the house, you're going to keep the house. Like I said, I know several good lawyers. They'd love to chew him up and spit him out."

"I'm not sure I could afford your lawyers, though," Blake said. "We're not exactly in the same tax bracket, you and I."

"I'm going to help you out with this, whether you want me to or not," Rossi replied.

"I can't ask you to do that," she said.

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Actually, I won't take no for an answer."

"Only if we call it a loan. And I'll repay every single penny."

"If that's what it takes," Rossi said, knowing he wouldn't _accept_ a single penny. He would have helped any of his friends if they were in the same pickle, of course he would – he firmly believed that if you don't share your wealth once you have it, you never deserved it in the first place – but for some reason, it was different when it was Blake. She was nowhere near a damsel in distress, but she still brought out the knight in him.

He got a brief image of him and James duel over her and told himself to knock it off. Blake hardly needed a knight to save her. She needed a friend to help her out, period. He'd better keep that in mind and refrain from doing anything that she might see as taking advantage of her vulnerability.

"Thank you, Dave," she said quietly. "I appreciate it more than you'll ever know."

"I'm just happy to help," he said.

The waitress appeared next to their table and asked if they were ready to order. Rossi sent Blake an inquiring glance, and she nodded. Only a few hours ago she had believed she would never regain her appetite, but now it dawned on her how hungry she was. She decided to go ahead and order that steak Rossi had suggested earlier, along with fries and green beans, and it turned out Rossi had the same order in mind.

When the waitress left them again, Blake chuckled to herself and shook her head.

"Something funny?" Rossi asked.

"Yeah. No."

"You are very precise and to the point today," he joked.

"It's not funny, exactly… it's more tragicomical. It just struck me that James would have serious issues with this order."

"How so?"

"He's a vegetarian, and he keeps trying to guilt-trip me into becoming one as well. I mean, I know it's healthy and better for the environment and all, but I need meat. I get sick if I go completely without, but he refuses to believe me."

"Good thing I'm not James, then," Rossi said. "One of my ex-wives wanted to turn me vegetarian, too. She was concerned about my health, at least that's what she said… although sometimes I wonder."

"I think James just thinks it's disgusting," Blake said, shrugging. "I bet one reason he got together with Ashley in the first place is because she's easier to control. I've never met her, but… she's 24 years old and his intern. She would probably do _anything_ he says to please him. He likes to feel important. He likes to tell people what to do."

She smiled. It was like watching a ray of sun shine through dark clouds.

"I guess I didn't feed his ego enough."

"Good," Rossi said with emphasis, and Blake's smile turned into a sincere laugh.

The food arrived and they let conversation rest for a while. Rossi was relieved to see that her appetite was back – he had noticed that she didn't eat well during their latest case, but he chalked it up to the heat in California.

Meanwhile, Blake had returned to the question about _why_ James was so hellbent on getting the house. She turned it over in her mind, dissecting it, and suddenly said:

"If he's not trying to mess with me, it must be the money. That house is worth quite a lot."

Rossi had already arrived at this conclusion, but didn't want to be the one to say it. She had a lot of emotional angles to work her way through before she could see it objectively, but it was better if she figured it out on her own. Plus, he didn't want to sound patronising.

"It's a possibility," he said.

"But why would he need money?" Blake mused, mostly to herself. "He makes more than I do." A thought struck her. "Oh _God_ , I hope he didn't get her pregnant!"

This possibility had passed Rossi by unnoticed, but before he could say anything, Blake argued against her own concern;

"No, not likely, if he got another woman pregnant he would brag to me about it. There is no way he would try to keep it from me."

"Why is that?"

Blake looked up in surprise, as if she had forgotten that he was there.

"Um… that's… not something I want to talk about now," she said, avoiding eye contact. "But the bottom line is, no, he wouldn't go to lengths trying to hide that from me. It's something else." She paused. "Dave?"

"Yes?"

"This stays between us, okay?"

"Absolutely."

She chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds. Rossi had seen her do this a couple of times before, mainly when watching an interrogation. It was a tic that seemed to indicate that she was unsure what to believe and it frustrated her.

"Alright. I've just… never told anyone about this before."

"If it's hard for you, you don't have to."

"I know. But… it feels like part of me _needs_ to tell someone. I haven't had many sympathetic listeners in my life. Not since I lost my brother Danny, anyway. I'm usually the one people tell their secrets to because I'm good at keeping them, but I'm not as good at sharing my own."

She looked behind her to make sure nobody was within earshot, but lowered her voice either way, just in case.

"I had two early miscarriages. The baby I did carry full term passed away at nine. He had a neurological disease so rare there wasn't even a name for it. Do you have any idea what it's like to fight against an invisible, nameless enemy?"

"No. I'm so, so sorry, Alex." He reached out and touched her hand in a heartfelt but insufficient attempt at comfort. She seemed grateful for the attempt, at least.

"I know James is blaming me for Ethan's death. He resents me for it."

"You can't know a thing like that."

"Oh, yes I can. He told me so himself, right after the funeral. And… I guess I blame myself, too. Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I shouldn't even have tried to pass my genes on. Nature sure seemed determined not to let me."

"Or maybe," Rossi said, "it was just one of those terrible things that happen, that's nobody's fault. Some things just happen for no reason. There is no cause and effect behind them. Nowhere to place the blame."

She swallowed and blinked away tears.

"I told myself I wasn't going to cry again," she said and wiped her eyes with the napkin.

"If you do, you probably need to. It's alright, Alex. I don't judge."

She somehow managed to push back the tears this time, though. The subject was too personal, she wasn't willing to share the tears spawned by this grief with anyone else. It was hers, and hers alone. She sniffed and cleared her throat.

"Anyway. If James got another woman pregnant, he would rub it in my face, not keep it a secret," she abruptly finished and downed the last of her bourbon. "I think you got more than you bargained for. I'm sorry."

"No, Alex, don't apologise, none of this is your fault."

"I'm not so sure about that, but thank you for trying. I'm going back to my room now," she said. "Go back to the others. Work on the case. I'll be fine."

Maybe, but the way her voice thickened as she spoke, he suspected she was fleeing to her room to let those tears out. But he also suspected that they had built up over many years and it was about time she got them out of her system so she could move on. He had never seen Blake show emotions until today, and it seemed like she had no safe zone in her own home either. How many years' worth of pain was bottled up behind the indifferent mask he saw every day? He had a feeling it was a lot.

He stood up and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I'll check in on you later, okay?"

She had to resist a sudden urge to walk into his arms and ask him to hold her, let all his kindness envelop her like a blanket, but the idea of asking for sympathy – even when it was so clearly presented to her – frightened her, and she only nodded and pulled loose.

Rossi's heart ached for her, but there was nothing more he could do at the moment.

On his way back to the station, he called his lawyer and left a message. James was going to pay dearly for what he had done to Alex, he was going to see to that much, at least.


End file.
